The Glass Coffin (9 page)

“I’ll get it,” I said. I undid her hooks and Jill ripped off the bra and handed it to Officer Ciarniello. After Jill stepped out of her panties, and Officer Ciarniello dutifully retrieved them, my friend turned to me naked. I took a washcloth from the backpack, ran a sink full of warm water, squirted soap on the cloth, and began to wipe her body. She was as still as a sick child. When I’d rinsed her body, I reached for a towel. Jill shook her head violently. “No, there might still be some blood.” Obediently, I refilled the sink, soaped the washcloth, and repeated the process. It was a long while before I could persuade Jill that she was clean. When finally she was convinced that not one drop of Evan MacLeish’s blood remained on her body, she picked up the towel and patted her skin dry. “You understand why I had to be sure,” she said.

“I understand,” I said. “Now come on, let’s get you dressed. It’s time to go home.”

CHAPTER

5

Jill was silent as she pulled on the slacks and sweater I’d brought, but after she’d run a comb through her hair, she turned to me. “I didn’t kill him,” she said. “I got the blood on me when I found his body.”

I indicated Officer Ciarniello with my eyes. “We don’t need to talk about this now,” I said.

“But I need you to know,” she said.

I met her eyes. “I know.”

Officer Ciarniello popped her head around the door. “Inspector Kequahtooway will be waiting.”

“We can’t have that.” The cheekiness was vintage Jill, but the delivery was flat.

Kevin Hynd was still at his post by the door to the ladies’ room. As we came out, he slid his arm through Jill’s. “Don’t volunteer anything,” he said, then led us towards the elevator.

Alex was sitting on small couch just inside the room where the wedding and reception had been held. He was talking to a petite, curvy blonde named Pam Levine. She was an associate producer on “Canada Tonight,” and when we’d run into one another Christmas shopping, she’d announced that the bodysuit she was wearing to Jill’s wedding would shoot her straight to the top of Santa’s list of Bad Little Girls. Nobody would have disputed Pam’s claim that her lipstick-red outfit was a sizzler, but as she answered Alex’s questions, she didn’t look naughty, she looked terrified.

Kevin led us to a table well away from the windows that faced the maze where Evan had been killed. With his Captain Trip insouciance and grizzled masculinity, Kevin did not, at first, seem like one of nature’s gentlemen, but he was courtly as he pulled out chairs for Jill, Officer Ciarniello, and me. Jill and I sank into ours, but Officer Ciarniello remained standing. When Alex came over, he dismissed her, and she left, struggling under the weight of Jill’s gown in the evidence bag.

Alex sat down and Kevin took the chair opposite him. “Is there a reason that you’re staying?” Alex asked.

“I’m Ms. Osiowy’s lawyer,” Kevin said.

Alex’s eyes widened. “And you cook too,” he said.

“What a long strange trip it’s been,” Kevin said pleasantly. He gave Alex his full name, then said, “I’ve instructed my client not to volunteer any information.”

“Fair enough,” Alex said. “I’ll just ask my questions.”

As he shifted in his chair to face Jill, Alex’s body language and tone changed. I was hyper-alert, anxious to know how he would treat her. Alex had come to know Jill through me. He didn’t trust the media. As an aboriginal cop who had come off his reserve to work in the system, Alex was wary of the institutions that govern our lives and of the people who run them, but he had grown genuinely fond of Jill.

“What happened here tonight?” he asked.

Jill chewed the nail polish on her thumbnail. “I wish I knew,” she said.

“Just tell me what you can,” Alex said, and his voice was soft with empathy.

Jill was a savvy journalist, and under normal circumstances, she would have seen through the warm reassurances that are standard issue for officers playing the Good Cop role. These were not normal circumstances, and when Jill exhaled and smiled gratefully at Alex, I knew she was seriously off her game. I shot a glance at Kevin Hynd.

“I’m on it,” he muttered. He leaned close to his new client. “Jill, the less you say, the better.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” she replied.

“Then tell me everything you know,” Alex said. There was urgency in his voice. He was pressing her because he knew the window of opportunity opened by her vulnerability could slam shut at any time. “How did you come to be out there by the snow maze, Jill?”

“I was looking for …” She caught herself. “I was looking for someone.”

The cords in Alex’s neck tensed. “Who?”

“Just a guest I hadn’t spoken to. An old friend from the network. Someone told me she’d gone outside for a smoke, so I decided to join her.”

Alex put down his pen and stared at Jill. “You left your own wedding reception to step outside for a smoke in the middle of a blizzard?”

Jill was cool. “I hadn’t had a cigarette in three hours, and it had been a stressful day.” She raised her hand to deflect a hasty interpretation. “Not because anything was wrong – just because there’s stress in every wedding.”

“All right, so you’re out in front of the gallery, lighting up with your friend …”

“No,” Jill cut him off. “She wasn’t there. I’d missed her. I decided that since I was already outside, I’d have a cigarette.”

“In the blizzard,” Alex said. This time he made no attempt to disguise his scepticism.

“There’s a portico out front that offers some shelter,” Jill said. “Besides, by that time the wind had died down.”

“And the weather had become so pleasant you decided to stroll over to the maze.”

“Inspector, if you keep jerking Jill around, we’re out of here.” Kevin Hynd removed a rose from the centrepiece and handed it to his client with a flourish. “We’re solid,” he said.

It was a gallant gesture, and Jill rewarded him with a smile. “Thanks,” she said. “For the flower and for the reminder that the inspector is no longer a friend.”

Alex winced. He was a good officer, but he was also a man sensitive to rejection, and for a moment, I felt my heart go out to him. The feeling didn’t last. If lines were being drawn, I was on Jill’s side.

Jill twirled the rose between her thumb and index finger. “Here’s what happened,” she said. “Take it, or leave it. I was standing in the portico smoking when I heard a cry – not a cry exactly, but obviously the sound of someone in trouble. It was coming from the direction of the maze, so I went over.” Jill’s eyes lost their focus. She was back at the scene. I’d had my own doubts about Jill’s story to this point, but suddenly her words had the ring of truth.

Alex seemed to believe her too. “You were wearing a wedding gown,” he said. “Why didn’t you just go inside and get somebody to call 911?”

Jill’s eyes flashed. “Damn it, Alex, you
know
me. You know that if I heard someone in agony, my first thought wouldn’t be what I was wearing or how I could offload the problem onto someone else. Why can’t you get your head around the fact that I did what any decent human being would do?”

Alex didn’t raise his eyes from his notepad. “All right,” he said. “You heard a cry and you responded. What happened next?”

“When I was about halfway to the maze, the sounds stopped,” Jill said. “I kept going until I came to the entrance. I went in. That’s when I found Evan. The walls were blocking the light, so I couldn’t see him until it was too late. He was just inside.” She bit her lip. “I fell right on top of him. For a few seconds I just lay there. I was stunned. Finally, I put my hand against his throat to see if he had a pulse. That’s when I touched the ulu – it was stuck here.” Jill placed her fingers against her own carotid artery. “I knew enough not to take it out. That’s how people bleed to death.” Her eyes were vacant. It was clear she was teetering on the brink of shock, and Kevin tapped her hand with his own, bringing her back.

Jill exchanged glances with him, then she continued. “I put my ear against Evan’s mouth to hear if he was breathing. He didn’t seem to be. I ran back to the gallery. There was a commissionaire just inside. He phoned the police. Then I went to look for …,” she hesitated, and in that moment, I knew that whatever came next would be a lie. “There was a medical doctor at the reception,” Jill said. “I went to see if I could find her.”

“So you went back upstairs to the party,” Alex said.

“Yes,” Jill said. “And from that point on, there are a hundred people who can tell you what I did.”

“We’ll be talking to every one of them,” Alex said dryly.

Jill turned to Kevin Hynd. “Can we go now?”

Kevin leaned back in his chair. “Inspector?”

Alex didn’t look up. “Tell your client to stay in town. I want her available.”

Jill stood up abruptly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Alex.”

“I still need someone to identify Gabriel Leventhal’s body,” Alex said.

Jill’s voice was icy, “And you expect me to do it.”

“I’m not a monster,” Alex said. “I was hoping you could suggest someone.”

“Felix Schiff took over as best man when Gabe didn’t show up,” I said. “He’s known Gabe for years.”

Alex shrugged. “Point him out, and you can be on your way.”

“He’s not here,” Jill said.

“Where is he?” Alex said.

Jill looked away. “Back at the hotel, I guess.”

“You don’t know? He was the best man at your wedding. I would think when he left the reception, he might say goodbye and mention where he was headed.” Alex’s face was dark with anger. “Jill, ever since we sat down for this interview, you and your lawyer have been dumping all over me because I’m trying to do my job. You say you’re innocent. Then let me hear the truth. No more lies. No more evasions.”

“I’m not lying,” Jill said. “I haven’t seen Felix since … since before I went outside to have that cigarette.”

“Nobody knows; nobody tells,” Alex said, seemingly to himself. “What hotel is he staying at?”

“The Saskatchewan,” Jill said.

“A straight answer. Thank you very much.” Alex raised his hand in dismissal. “You can leave now.”

Bryn was with her aunts at the top of the staircase that curved to the main floor. The three women formed a provocative triptych. Shoulders squared, jaw set, Claudia MacLeish was stoic. Bryn, too, was composed, but tears ran down her cheeks as if somewhere inside her there was a well of sorrow that could not be stilled. Tracy’s woe was unrestrained. Hands cupped over her eyes, she sobbed with such intensity that her slender body seemed to convulse. Her suffering might have touched a stranger, but we “Magictown” aficionados had caught Tracy’s act before. The cupped hands and the sobs were tipoffs that, once again, the Broken Wand Fairy’s powers had failed her.

If I had had magical powers, I would have made all three women disappear, but like the Broken Wand Fairy, I was mired in the real world. All I could do was watch as Jill ran to Bryn, clasped the girl’s bare shoulders, and assessed her anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Bryn said. The tears were still flowing, but her words did not suggest deep and abiding grief. “I’m glad he’s dead,” she said.

Jill drew the girl to her. “Shh …,” she murmured. “You mustn’t say that.”

Bryn broke away. “Why not? It’s true. It’s not like I haven’t told you a million times that I hated him.” She whirled to face her aunts. “I told you too. He deformed my life, and nobody did anything about it. Now somebody has. Just don’t expect me to be a hypocrite like everybody else.”

It was a situation that demanded quick and deft handling, and Kevin Hynd supplied it. “We haven’t met,” he said, extending his hand to Bryn. “I’m Jill’s lawyer. Since you’re her stepdaughter now, I’m going to give you some legal advice.”

Bryn took his hand warily. “What’s the advice?”

“Put a sock in it,” Kevin said equitably. “There are cops hanging off the rafters here. If you want to rant, wait for a change of venue.”

“I’m not leaving Jill,” Bryn said quickly.

“You don’t have to,” Jill said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Stay with us,” I said and immediately regretted the invitation. I would have shared a pup-tent with Jill, but the idea of having Bryn at close quarters was not appealing. I didn’t like her, and Angus’s readiness to leave the reception suggested I wasn’t the only one who suspected his goddess had feet of clay.

“Finally, a decision.” Claudia shifted into full take-charge mode. “Let’s move,” she said. “The only thing that calms Tracy down when she’s this hysterical is one of her pills and a massage, and these healing hands of mine won’t be able to do their job unless they’ve spent some time wrapped around a big glass of Johnny Walker. Bryn can pick up her stuff when you drop us off at the hotel.”

Bryn’s eyes widened. “No,” she said. “I’m not going back there. Just pack up my things and send them to Joanne’s in a taxi.”

Claudia frowned. “If that’s what you want …”

“It is,” Bryn said.

“And that’s it?” Tracy’s voice was jagged. “After seventeen years, you just walk out of my life?”

“Oh
please,”
Bryn said. “Like you care about anybody but you.”

Jill turned to Claudia and Tracy. “She’s had a lot to deal with today.”

Claudia made no attempt to hide her exasperation. “Bryn, I may not have done enough, but I did the best I could.” She gestured towards Tracy. “So did she.”

“Bite me!” Bryn snapped, then flew down the spiral staircase. I watched her, surprised and oddly heartened. For the first time since I’d met Bryn, I knew I had heard her true voice. It wasn’t pretty, but it was authentic. As she disappeared into the lobby, I found myself hoping that despite everything that had been done to her, the bouncy egotism of the seventeen-year-old would get Bryn through.

When we came in, Taylor was lying on the hall floor with her head on Willie’s side, gazing at the angels suspended from the flocked tips of her tree. The invisible music box was still playing “The Way We Were.” As I listened to its endless, tinny repetitions, I knew I had discovered a fresh circle of hell.

The blast of cold air from the open door roused Taylor from her reverie. “Is the party over?” she asked, looking up at us.

“Yes,” Jill said. “It’s over – big time.”

Kevin had gravitated towards Angels Among Us. “Serious foliage,” he said.

Taylor bobbed her head in agreement. “Do you know who all the angels are?”

Kevin perused the tree carefully and nodded. “Every last one.”

“They’re all dead,” Taylor said. “But look at the card.”

Kevin put on his wire-rimmed glasses and read. “It’s true,” he said. “The great ones never really die.”

Angus loped down the stairs and took in the scene. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Let’s go up to your room,” Bryn said. “I don’t feel like talking about this in front of everybody else.”

“If you want privacy, you can use the family room,” I said. “Nobody’s in there.”

Bryn glared at me, but my son shot me a look of relief. “Good plan. My room’s pretty much of a slag heap.”